


hold my hand, i'll set you free

by michaelscoven



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, but - Freeform, mallory is low-key a bad bitch lmao, please don't be mean I will literally cry, she goes to a different point because why not?, she's been through some shit okay let her be a little harsh sometimes, where mallory goes back in time and save michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelscoven/pseuds/michaelscoven
Summary: Cordelia’s final words become an instruction for Mallory. The new Supreme doesn’t travel through time for revenge, though it is due, instead she goes to attempt to help Michael and give him a chance at a family and love.





	hold my hand, i'll set you free

**Author's Note:**

> okay so like, if y'all are reading this wow thank you? bless your souls? um i've rewritten this chapter five times now and this is as good as it gets so if its shit,,, sorry? but like we going ✈️ cry over the finale for three years ig lmaoo
> 
> also her boots are those platform doc martin boots that everyone is wearing rn (literally i'm in love with them) but i didn't want to interrupt the story by letting everyone know what a shoe whore i am xoxoxox

Mallory could only watch from the bath she lay in, drawing shallow breaths and struggling to remain conscious, as Cordelia walked the few paces that closed the gap between her and Michael. The Supreme and the strongest woman she knew, was sacrificing herself because of a stupid misunderstanding between a witch and a tortured mortal and now because of it Mallory was dying. She knew she ought to struggle, to fight to keep her eyes open and focused on the elderly witch who watched on in horror, but sleep seemed so peaceful, especially after everything that had happened. If Michael had made it to them then the others were all dead, Madison, Marie, and Coco, her best friend; the eccentric calorie counter had become her sister, her confidant, she didn’t want to live in a world without her.

“Do you regret anything?” Cordelia asked, her voice full of power and confidence which juxtaposed her deteriorating body. Mallory could only imagine Michael’s smirk, his eyes which gleamed in triumph at the Supreme who was failing, and the Supreme elect, who was dying.

“I’ve won, why would I regret anything?” He replied, his voice rich and smooth and matched Cordelia’s confidence, although not quite her authority.

“But you haven’t won. You’ve failed.” Cordelia said, although Mallory strained to hear it, “You weren’t prepared for the loyalty of a witch, our sisterhood, which will ultimately be your downfall.”

“Your sisters are dead, Cordelia, I’ve killed them all.”

“Not quite,” Cordelia whispered. “Unbeknownst to you, you’ve had a rival this whole time, a witch we kept right under your nose, it appears you forgot about her.”

“Mallory.” Michael breathed, “I’ve hardly forgotten about her, but she’s dying, I can feel her soul leaving us and entering her personal hell.”

“Then you’ve proven your connection to Hell is a weak one. Her soul may be leaving us but she is not going to Hell, if anything she’ll be visiting yours.”

Mallory waited, but there was no response, Cordelia stepped back into her line of sight. The Supreme looked over at her dying student, she had become her girl’s mother, and the pain she felt as each of them died during her reign was like nothing she had ever felt. Perhaps the spells she had cast on herself before her Supremacy had worked, back when she had been madly in love with a liar.

A knife flew into Cordelia’s hands and she looked back at the antichrist who stood before her. Mallory’s eyes began to close and her vision blurred, the feeling of Myrtle’s gloved hands on her shoulders disappeared and her body started to sink underneath the water. Myrtle struggled to hold her up, her silence had worried Mallory before, the witch always had something to say, but now she barely noticed it.

“Perhaps in another life I would have met you before your father could have created this hold he has on you. You would have been welcomed to our coven.” Her breaths were ragged, short and shallow gasps as she desperately clutched onto the last few seconds of life. “But remember this: Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion motherfucker.”

And with that Cordelia plunged the blade into her chest, letting out a final gasp of shock as she staggered backwards, her body plummeting down the ledge and making contact upon the concrete floors with a sickening ‘thud’. Mallory’s life flowed back into her as Cordelia’s flowed out, and the new Supreme gasped and repositioned herself in the bath, her grip of Michael’s hair stronger than ever.

Michael let out a yell and ran to the ledge, his hand gripping onto the doorframe of the room Mallory and Myrtle took brief shelter within. Blood covered his face- her sister’s blood- and his hair was no longer perfectly curled and styled, but teased and messy.

She took a deep breath, feeling the power of her Supremacy guide her to the right words. Michael turned to look at her, his face filled with shock and anguish, she met his stare with a small smile.

“Tempus Infinitum.” 

She screamed, and pushed herself under the water, feeling her body float away from the Outpost, from Michael, from Cordelia’s corpse. A final, piercing scream which could belong to no one but Myrtle echoed around her as she was drawn back in time. The lock of hair dissolved as her feet touched the ground and her surroundings solidified, its essence was all around her, in her ability to change the course of time.

* * *

Rain. Mallory couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt it on her skin. The Outpost had been hot and stuffy, suffocating, feelings of which she had to stifle or she would go insane. Before the fall she would have run from the water droplets, hidden under an umbrella or run to a nearby tree in search of shelter, but now she stood, arms wide and face tilted upwards to catch as much of the cooling water as she could.

The Murder House loomed before her. An ominous building, full of tortured souls and pain, it was a prison to anyone who left the living on the premises, and the prisoners were more than happy to build their ranks.

They were already there when she arrived, the car with the upside-down crucifix hanging from the rear vision mirror was parked outside, and the screams of the girl they were to sacrifice echoed through the street. The moment was his turning point, he could either be saved or his father would collect, Cordelia wanted him alive, she wanted to redeem him, allow him to live a life unburdened by his father’s will, and to do that she needed to overpower the devil’s whisper, the ideas he put in Michael’s head. Her words echoed in Mallory’s head: perhaps in another life I would have met you before your father could have created this hold he has on you. You would have been welcomed to our coven.

She walked up the brick steps, hair stringy and drenched, dress dripping water, her boots kept her feet relatively dry, although a few droplets of water ran down her ankle. Candlelight lit the room beside the door, it was a cliche, of course the Satanists would use candle fire- it was as close as they could get to hellfire.

As her knuckles rapped on the door, the girl’s screams grew, her fear was palpable, Mallory could taste it, here she stood, the only hope for two of the people inside and yet she could only pray that she was enough. She waited, admiring the stained glass window. The house was pretty, it’s history- not so much, but she could understand why the Harmons were so motivated to move in. 

The door swung open to reveal Miriam Mead, dressed in a black cloak. The woman that would become Michael’s adoptive mother, the woman that would be burnt at the stake in the next years to come after she murdered a warlock. Mead smiled, her black lips parting to reveal glowing white teeth, Mallory smiled back, trying to ignore the memory of her sickening laughs as her body burned.

“Hi, I’m so sorry but my car broke down and I just lost my phone, I think I dropped it in the gutter.” She gestured to the flooded road, no phone could survive that, if she had dropped it, it would be well in the storm drain “Could I come in and use your phone, I need to call my mom.”

“We’re a little busy at the moment-“ Mead tried to close the door but Mallory put her foot in the way.

“Please, it will only take a minute.” Mallory smiled again, although not as sweetly, her voice had lost its desperate ‘help me please’ tone, and instead had become more demanding. She wasn’t going to be nice to a woman who would happily kill her brother and bring on the end times, even if witches and warlocks didn’t coexist peacefully, an enemy to one was an enemy to both.

Mallory pushed forward, using every bit of strength she had, and slipped inside the house, much to the annoyance of Miriam Mead.

“Miriam! Why did you let her in?” The leader snapped, his hood was pushed up, most likely to cover his balding scalp, although he was able to grow a goatee which was greasy. 

“So sorry, I let myself in.” Mallory replied, “What exactly are you guys doing in here? Surely this isn’t legal.”

“It’s a religious activity, a private one which you weren’t invited to.” The remaining woman snapped.

“Again I’m really sorry, I’m just here to pick my friends up and then I’ll be out of your hair.” Mallory smiled and nodded towards the girl strapped to the table. “If you could please help me untie her, and where’s Michael?”

“You’re not taking her anywhere.” The lead Satanist growled, “Those two are important to our cause.”

Mallory shook her head and walked over to the table, her boots left wet footprints on the floor.

“Did you know that the owner of this house was killed in a murder-suicide? Supposedly they still haunt these halls, him, his wife and their baby.” Mallory looked up at the walls, imagining the setting, the people, the deaths. “I can bring them out, I can bring every spirit in this house out, including Constance Langdon.”

“You can let me see my Grandma?” A soft voice asked. Mallory turned to see a shirtless Michael Langdon, dressed in only black pants and a red and black cloak. His hair was short and his eyes held none of the anger that they had when Mallory last saw him. “She won’t come out, none of them will anymore.”

“I know.” Mallory said, “But they don’t understand you, Michael, they’re scared.”

“Silence, girl. Michael, we must perform the ritual, you are our Lord.” The man interrupted, “We can give you power unimaginable.”

“I can give you a family, Michael, one which would accept and love you.” Mallory stepped towards him, hands out, “We can say goodbye to Constance, to Ben and Vivien, and Tate, and we can move on. Or you can stay here, listen to these people and let your life be ruled by hatred and a desire for revenge.”

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, in and out, feeling her magic materialise and flow into the dying flowers in the vase on the mantle beside Michael, the petals regrew under her fingers, their age reversed and they took flight. Their structure changed and although they remained just as delicate, when Mallory opened her eyes the room was filled with butterflies dancing around the room, landing on Michael and taking off again, playing around the Satanists.

“This is magic, Michael, this is what we can teach you. There are no sacrifices needed, you don’t have to kill this girl and eat her heart.” She took his hands and held them tightly. A small puddle of water had formed around where she stood, droplets still ran down her legs and dripped from the skirt of her dress, yet she was so determined to help him, so desperate to allow him a second chance, that she barely noticed.

“My Lord, this witch fills your head with lies, tales that will never come to fruition, come to us, come to your father and fulfil your destiny.” The man said, moving to stand beside Mallory. “Her magic is false, only for show, the powers your father has granted you are more than anything she could ever witness.”

“I don’t want to choose, I want my Grandma.” Michael said, pulling his hands away from Mallory, “I want my family back.”

Mallory smiled sadly and walked out of the room and into the kitchen. The spell required to force the ghosts out of hiding would require a warlock, and a warlock’s grimoire, neither of which Mallory had anywhere near her, instead she would have to rely upon Constance’s desire to get her grandson out of her house. 

“Oh for God’s sake, Michael, listen to the girl and stop this foolishness.” Constance Langdon snapped. “I didn’t raise you to worship this fallen angel, Jesus H Christ anyone would believe these, these immorals raised you.”

Mallory turned around to see Michael’s form hunched slightly, as though he was cowering before his grandmother, understandably so, for Constance was truly a force to be reckoned with. She wore a purple floral dress and matching old-fashioned heels, with a cigarette held loosely between two fingers. Her gaze snapped from Michael to Mallory, her eyes alight with fury.

“Mallory, is it? I don’t care, just take him away, no boy of mine is eating some girl’s heart.” Constance caressed his cheek softly with one hand, her expression wistful, before she walked out of the room and disappeared.

“So then, Michael, pack your things and let’s head off, I want to be in New Orleans by Thursday.” Mallory said, 

Miriam let out a scream of rage and pulled out her dagger, holding it above her head and pushing it down, into the captive girl’s chest, before dragging it up, reaching into the cavity she had created and pulling out the still beating heart. Shock consumed Mallory and she became deaf to the girl’s cries of pain, she staggered forward, shoving away anyone in her way and placed her hands on her chest, desperately trying to reverse her wounds. 

She was still alive, though her breaths came in ragged gasps, the mask the priest had shoved over her face remained on, yet Mallory barely noticed, instead she forced every ounce of power from every corner of her body into the girl. She watched through half-lidded eyes as the hole sealed, blood stopped spouting from her chest and the girl’s screams ceased, replaced by uneven breaths. Mallory ripped the mask off her face, followed by the ties and helped her off the table, an arm wrapped around her to steady her. 

The heart in Miriam’s hand had rotted and died, blood that still poured was black and tar-like, it no longer had any connection to its body because Mallory had created a new one. Before their eyes it disintegrated and fell in a heap at Miriam’s feet, releasing the putrid smell of sulphur and death into the air. Michael hadn’t moved, he remained a statue, watching the event unfold before him with wide eyes.

“Michael, come on, we’re leaving.” Mallory said, the girl had regained her balance and was able to walk on her own, so Mallory took his hand and began walking away, out of the sitting room and into the hallway. He followed his other hand touching his cheek gingerly, as though it hurt him.

The Satanists didn’t follow them, but remained in the house, glaring at Mallory as she led their Saviour away, into the pouring rain in the middle of the night.


End file.
